The Chosen Undead
by Norsehammer793
Summary: Follow the chosen Undead through encounters and battles with some of the various enemies in the dark souls world including bosses and several locations featured in the games
1. Chapter 1

The Chosen Undead

Chapter 1 – Dark beginnings

It was quiet, the air dense with a translucent fog. Through the fog, a man emerged, a man with no name, background, or even belongings, all he had was his purpose, to reclaim that which had been taken from him…..his soul, his very being. Inside he felt confused, lost even, but his purpose it seemed, was the one thing that was clear to him. He wandered lonely through the fog, scanning the nearby scenery, looking for any sign of life, though none was apparent. In the distance, a bright light seemed to penetrate the veil of unnatural fog and gain the man's attention as the light softly caressed his cold, brittle skin and gave him a warm, pleasant, and safe feeling, feelings he had long since forgotten. He cautiously wandered towards the strange light source and wondered, "What could it be, some sort of ember, or maybe even a fire". As he approached it, it became apparent, it was no mere ember or fire, it was a bonfire.

On the ground, close to the bonfire, he found a knight wearing silver chainmail and grasping a shield with a red and black crest, the knight looked to be in pain and almost near death. The injured knight let out a faint whisper, "Please, help me, put an end to my suffering, I can take no more". The man looked down at the knight and wondered, "What could have done such a thing, what could have brought a man so much pain that he would happily beg for death". He listened to the knight's plea and decided that he would have to help him, to put this man out of his agonizing pain. He reached down and slowly raised the Knight's Short sword, without any hesitation or further pain being caused, the man hastily plunged the sword through the Knight's heart, putting an end to his pain once and for all.

The knight's body slowly slumped on the cold hard ground as he let out a sigh of relief and his warm blood created a small pool aside him on the ground. The man didn't know how to feel, sad, that he had taken this man's life, or happy that he had been able to help stop the knight's pain, all he knew was that it would be a long time until he saw another friendly face again, or so he thought. Shortly after the Knights departure, a sinister voice spoke out, "You certainly handled that well didn't you, ha ha", the man looked around, and unsure of what was to come next he stood solitary, waiting for this stranger to reveal himself. Suddenly the fog to the left of him dissipated and revealed a lone man sitting on a rock with a strange smile on his face.

"Welcome to Lordran, it's strange to see a friendly face around here, well, I say friendly, you certainly seemed to finish that fellow off quickly, you even enjoyed it I'd say ha ha".

"I was doing him a favour" said the man. "He asked me to", he added.

"Oh is that it, well if you could be as kind as to forfeit me that "favour" then I would kindly appreciate it ha ha ha".

"What do you want" asked the man.

"Merely to help" he replied. "You should start off by grabbing that short sword and shield, and one more thing, that knight had something rather special on his person, an Estus flask.

"And what is what exactly" said the man.

"An Estus flask is a container of sorts that is, not so commonly used, to store a healing poultice. You can refill it at the bonfire, behind you, and any other you may find on your travels, just rest at the bonfire and you will notice the flask refilling, you may also be healed by the power of the bonfire".

"And what is this" the man replied while raising another flask found among the knight's effects.

"Ah, now that IS something special, that is an Alembic. The Alembic has a far stranger use; it is used to store a large mass of souls, or a small amount of souls, if they are large enough that is".

"And what would I need these souls for" the man asked.

"By killing small creatures and enemies, you will acquire a small amount of souls which can be saved in the Alembic and used later on to empower yourself.

The man asked "How do I know you're even telling me the truth, I don't know you, and I don't exactly trust you".

The strange man grinned, "I would not lie to you. I need something from you, and by helping you I am in fact helping myself, which I am very good at ha ha ha".

"So, tell me, firstly, what is it you need me to do accomplish, and secondly, why should I help you?"

"Well" the strange man said, "I have noticed something peculiar about you, you are a hollow, not unlike myself, you are lacking a soul". "If you would help me, I could help you retrieve your soul once more".

"Truly?" he replied, "You can help me retrieve my soul", "what would you have me do?"

"The Alembic" Said the strange man.

"Yes, what about it, do you want it?" asked the man.

"Yes, and no, first of all, you must overcome the task of filling the Alembic, you must defeat a creature named "The Asylum Demon", whose soul is large enough to fill roughly one fifth of the Alembic".

"So you're telling me I will have to defeat five of these creatures to fill the Alembic and if I do so, you will help me?"

"Yes" replied the strange man, "Certainly". "You will find the Asylum Demon north of here, you will pass through a dark valley shrouded with trees, and then you must turn left at the fork and continue straight on until you reach the Asylum's main doors". Now there is not much time, you must go forth on your journey".

"Is there anything else I should know?" said the man.

"Be careful" replied the strange man, "that is all you need to know, by the way, before you go, you may call me "Crestfallen", I'm sure we will meet again".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The journey begins

After departing from Lordran, the man travelled for three days and nights, passing through all manners of scenery, until finally arriving in an area shrouded in trees and drenched with a dark aura, he slowly entered the valley, wary of his surroundings, armed only with a simple sword and shield he was worried and knew that soon, he would need to find some sort of armour to help ensure his survival. He moved slowly taking it step by step, hoping he was alone in this fearsome place. As he moved forward he caught a glimpse of movement in his peripherals, a shuffle in the shrubbery to his right, he closed in, slowly, with his shield raised and armed with his sword. He watched and waited.

He hoped that the movement was nothing more than his imagination but as he watched, he noticed the ground begin to softly tremble, then suddenly the frosty earth cracked and a tree-like figure seemed to emerge, ripping its own roots from the ground as it did so. The man gasped, raised his shield and steeled himself for what was soon to come, the tree-like figure turned hastily towards him and started moving in, closing the distance at a surprising speed, it only took a moment for it to reach him, swing one of its branch-like arms and land a devastating blow that almost ripped through his defence in one mighty hit. The man felt the brunt of the attack, flinched and stepped back, leaning into the crippling, whipping attacks of the creatures branch-like arms, until momentarily, it stopped and assumed that its fearsome attacks had bested its rival as they had so many others, the man quickly took the opportunity and let his guard down for just a moment as he delivered a lighting fast strike to his enemy's core, making it stumble and fall heavily to the mossy earth. Once dead, the tree-like figure seemed to glow slightly, the man examined the body and from it gathered a lump of mystical purple moss, he held onto it in case it proved useful in future endeavours.

After the conflict had ended, he scouted the area, checking to see if there was anything else coming his way, there was nothing. An eerie silence loomed as he made his way through a path in the heavily wooded area, he was hoping he would not be met by another of those creatures and that his journey would be more fortunate in time to come. After travelling for what seemed to be days, the man came across the path he had been told of by the Crestfallen. He did as he had been informed and turned left at the fork and wandered out of the wooded area, he was glad to be away from such a place. As he continued he noticed a stone path and a hint of a more civilized area, he followed the path until suddenly it stopped, and in front of him, stood the large wooden doors of the Asylum. The doors looked rough but very sturdy, and surprisingly, one of the doors was left ajar. He did not know if he was being led into an ambush or the door was just simply left unlocked, but none the less, he continued heading in all the same.

He squeezed through the opening; the large wooden door creaked as he forced himself through. He tried to create as little noise as possible so as not to alert any nearby creatures or patrols. Once inside, the man noticed that the floor in front of him was littered in petrified corpses which looked to have been there a very long time, he knew the demon must be residing somewhere nearby. The floor was badly damaged and the cobblestones seemed to be almost caving in; he stayed close to the nearest wall and etched his way along to a smaller door in front of him which then led to a set of descending stairs. He made his way down the cold, stone steps and into another room. The room was bare, only a sparse few wooden boxes and crates resided. He noticed a thick layer of dust and crumbled stones in the middle of the room; he was directly underneath the first room he entered after squeezing through the large doors. It seemed quiet and lifeless, not what he expected at all.

There was a faint banging noise echoing throughout the numerous halls of the asylum, unsure of what was causing it, the man stepped back and stayed close to the wall, he tried to track down where the noise was coming from but to no avail. It seemed to be coming from all directions. The banging started off faint but as time passed, it got louder and louder with each successive bang, he noticed that with the rhythm of the banging, it could only be one thing. The demon was nearby, its heavy footsteps pounded and creaked, it obviously had a huge mass, and it was now obvious why the floor above him was falling apart, the footsteps stopped, a sudden deafening silence filled the room. Then, with one loud thud, the roof caved in, and the demon plummeted through it and into the hard ground below, armed with a giant hammer, the demon ploughed it into the ground, creating a huge shockwave which sent the man crashing into the wall, dropping his weapon in the process, but luckily, still clasping onto his shield. The demon towered above him, with dark grey skin and with large talons on its hands and feet. It was large in height and it girth, the demon had obviously fattened itself by feasting on the flesh of all of the poor souls who had entered this place looking for a safe haven. Its eyes were bright green and from its head sprouted small, stunted black horns. It had black spots on its soft, grey underbelly and black tattered wings, although it didn't seem to be able to fly, its great weight anchoring it to the floor.

He was hurt; his head had hit the wall with large force and blood streamed over his right eye, leaving him with blurred vision and only one useful eye to watch for the demons next incoming attack. He got to his feet, picked up his sword and readied himself; the demon used its hammer to sweep the ground, a large arc attack that was hard to dodge. The man dived out of the way, pieces of the broken boxes and wooden crates showered and splintered him but he managed to evade the attack. He closed in, looking for the opportune moment to strike, the one advantage he had was speed, and he had to make the most of it. He ducked and weaved through its heavy, but slow attacks and was able to quickly land a few slash attacks on its soft underbelly. Its blood spewed forth onto the floor, black and tar like, but the demon seemed un-phased, he tried to move away but he tired and had lost his speedy advantage. The demon made the most of this opportunity and moved as quickly as possible, swinging its hammer with all of its might. It landed a crippling blow to the man's mid-section which lifted him off the ground and sent him spiralling through the air. He smashed into a pile of wooden crates, his body battered and his will destroyed; he had only one option left, to flee. He knew that he could not best this creature, so he used his last shred of energy and picked himself up and bolted for the door. He stumbled from wall to wall; hardly able to hold himself up, quickly scrambling up the stairs he headed for the large wooden door.

Once the demon had noticed that he had escaped, it tried to fly out of the room up to the top floor to finish the job but he was unable to do so, as his frail, tattered wings did not have the necessary power to lift his large, colossal body. The demon shrieked and smashed his fist into a nearby pillar, almost bringing down the last remaining part of the ceiling, knowing that his pray had escaped. The man squeezed back through the large, wooden door, defeated. He knew he had failed and must return to the Crestfallen with the tale of his defeat. He limped away in agony, not sure of what was to come next. He headed back, panicked, knowing that he would have to return, which meant passing through the dark forest once more. He would not be able to face another of the tree-like creatures, not in the state he was in. He needed help.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – an unexpected encounter

He headed back, a long tiresome road stretched out before him. He felt weaker and weaker, his injuries, like weights, were pulling him down, anchoring him to the ground. He wanted to stop, but knew that he needed to press on. He used all of his effort and willpower to block out the pain and carry on, but as he continued, his vision became hazy, he became heavily fatigued and his limbs became limp as he dropped to the ground, unconscious, a trail of blood leading from him, a product of his many wounds. When he finally awoke, several days later, the haziness in his eyes slowly dissipated, revealing two figures standing above him, watching him, he didn't know who they were, or even if they were friends, or foes.

He spoke out with a strained voice, "Who are you, what do you want with me?"

"Don't worry, you're safe now", said the strange man, "My name is Lenigrast".

"How did you find me?"

"I found you three days ago, when I was out scavenging for materials, you were unconscious, lying in a pool of your own blood. I took you for dead at first, until I noticed that you were breathing faintly".

"Materials?" he said "What do you mean materials?"

"Well, I'm a blacksmith; I need materials to forge new weapons and armour" said Lenigrast proudly.

"Oh, well I should say thank you for helping me"

"Don't thank me, thank my wife Myrna, she's the one who patched you up, if it was up to me, you wouldn't have made it through the night ha ha ha, anyway, I need to speak to you privately for a moment". Lenigrast looked to his wife with a stern but loving look; she knew what he was implying and headed back inside, leaving them to talk.

"What is it?" replied the man.

The blacksmith had noticed that the man's clothing was spattered with a thick, black, tar-like substance, and from looking at his wounds, with his extensive knowledge of weaponry, he could tell that they were caused by an inhumanly large, blunt weapon. Lenigrast knew who this poor fellow had gone up against.

"Taking on such a powerful, fearsome creature, with such a low level of training was really not a good idea was it?" said Lenigrast in a serious, but almost mocking tone.

"I did not know that the creature would be so fearsome and that my skills would be rendered so utterly useless".

"What you need is training" said Lenigrast enthusiastically.

"I think you may be right".

"Well then", said Lenigrast, "you'd better get some rest if you're going to be training, you'll get nothing accomplished in the shabby state you're currently in my friend".

The man nodded his head in agreement and was then escorted back inside by Lenigrast's wife Myrna. He lay on a small straw bed, exhausted, but eager to start his training. After several days of recovery of his body and mind, the man was finally ready to start training to become the man he would need to be in this dark, forsaken world. "Good day", the man greeted. "Ah, there you are" exclaimed Lenigrast, "I have something to discuss with you in regards to your training". "If you're to continue on your path, you'll need a proper set of arms and armour, and even though the weaponry and attire I smith would sufficiently protect you against, well, any and all men you would be likely to encounter on your travels, sadly, you are not faced by men but by horrid creatures and bloodthirsty daemonic beasts".

"So what did you have in mind?" replied the man inquisitively.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the missing codex pages of Almaar?"

"I'm afraid not" said the man thoughtfully.

"The tale speaks of an ancient blacksmith and his catalogue of codex pages, mystical tomes which held inscriptions and detailed illustrations of the long lost techniques of forging special pieces of arms and armour and how to work different types of magic gems and titanite to imbue the equipment with outstanding capabilities". The obvious problem is in the title, and the fact is that they are missing" he adds.

"Sooo what, you want me to find them, is that the question you're slowly arriving at Lenigrast" he says knowledgeably.

"Precisely" replies Lenigrast, "I have already found two of the pages whilst on one of my routine rummages" he says laughing heartily, "This has enabled me to craft equipment other blacksmiths could only dream of smithing themselves, but the fact remains, I need more so as I can help outfit you to suit your future endeavours".

"That sounds a plan, so, do you have any idea where I should start?"

"Actually I do, but you're not going to like it entirely, it lies within the ruins of the asylum, past the wretched daemon who guards it, I think you know whom I mean" he smirks, but with a serious, stern look on his face.

"I know all too well. I think I will need to complete my training first and arm myself properly this time, only then will I stand a chance".

"Rightly so", said Lenigrast, we must make haste and get you in shape as soon as possible then eh?"

The man once again gives an acknowledging nod to Lenigrast with a stern and determined look plaguing his face.

"Let's get started then, but first of all; you're going to have to tell me your name".

"I'm not sure, I-I don't remember, when I try to think to my past it all because just one big hazy mess".

"Right then", said the blacksmith, "May I call you Morokei? It was my sons name, he passed a long time ago, you remind me of him you know".

"I'd be honoured" said the man, whose face was now inhabited with a slightly joyful, almost adoring smile.

"Splendid, we must get to it then, there's no time to waste".


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Master and Pupil

A new day dawned, the air frosty and biting. It was still early but already, Lenigrast had dragged Morokei from his beautifully soft warm bed and forced him into the unwelcoming outdoors where he was manoeuvred into the correct stance and given his choice of weaponry.

"So", said Lenigrast, "Which weapon takes your fancy then, sword, axe or mace?"

"I think a sword would be best", replied Morokei.

Lenigrast nodded, then handed him a wooden sword. Morokei grasped the sword, a sincere look of disappointment on his face.

"You realise I would probably cause more damage with this if I threw it at somebody right?" he said jokingly.

"Don't worry, it's just for starters", chuckled Lenigrast, "I'll give you a real blade when you pass the first stage of training….we don't want anyone getting hurt now do we?"

"Of course, you're right" he agreed.

"Ok then, let's get started. First of all you must find your centre of balance and use it to your advantage, it will help with your balance when fighting, and improve your poise….we don't want you getting staggered in the middle of a battle now do we?, that would most likely be the end for you I'm afraid, hahaha", he says jokingly with an undertone of seriousness in his voice.

"Okay" said Morokei "makes sense".

The training carried on until nightfall, Morokei's body bruised and his mind exhausted. He had trained hard, and his determined attempts had impressed even Lenigrast himself.

"Well done my boy, we'll make a soldier of you yet, that's the first stage of training complete, now get some well needed rest, we'll continue at dawn".

Morokei awoke, met my Lenigrast, then was taken outside and made to practice; this became the ritual between master and pupil, and carried on for several weeks with the odd day of rest and recuperation.

A long time had passed and Morokei was finally ready for the final stage of his arduous training. He was now learned in the effective use of sword and shield and had even learned a special few techniques from Lenigrast, he would put these to use later on in battle when he needed them most.

Morokei looked for Lenigrast impatiently and found him pacing in the courtyard with his arms held behind his back.

"Morokei, there you are, it is time. Your next journey awaits you in the undead burg. If you can make your way through and defeat the creature residing on the bridge, then you have truly succeeded and will be back on your path to redemption. Before you set off on your travels, I have a few gifts for you. Before you leave, retrieve them from your room, no need to thank me for them, your company alone was more than enough of a reward, in times like these that is all a man could hope for".

Morokei headed back to his room, "what have I waiting for me" he wondered, upon arriving he pushed open the splintered wood door to reveal his bed. Upon it sat a set of polished knight's armour, its pauldron's and chest plate glistened in the sun. Alongside the armour, lay a sword and a shield, both made from what seemed to be silver, but looked to have been cast as hard as stone. A nearby note read;

"Long ago, I forged these weapons and armour myself, for my son. When I received word that he had fallen in battle I stored them away, until today they had never seen the likes of the sun. Please make good use of them, and let them protect you as they should have my son".

Morokei was overcome with gratitude, he could not believe the gift that had been bestowed him, he felt privileged. He made haste in fitting as fastening the armour and arming himself with the sword and shield, he then made his way out of the door and caught a glimpse of Lenigrast waiting in the distance, A happy and sincere look occupied his face, they nodded to each other, feeling as if they could have even been father and son themselves.

As Morokei walked through the front archway and back towards the dirt path Lenigrast bellowed "Make sure you come back in one piece boy", Morokei nodded in agreement and shouted back "Don't worry old man, this isn't the last you've seen of me". He walked away, still keeping Lenigrast in his sights, he was the only friend he had known in a long time and he knew he may never see him again. He felt sorrow but determination also, to finish what he had set out to do…..to reclaim his soul.

He pushed on, along the dirt path and through some aged ruins. He checked his person for the map, a map that Lenigrast had handed him prior to his departure, a map that would lead him to the undead burg….and the daemon that lay there in waiting. Following the maps directions he arrived at a seemingly dis-used and derelict shack, he entered cautiously, his sword held high, scouting the area for any signs of danger. There were none, all that was in the room was a handful of battered crates and barrels. He decided to make camp here since he had been travelling all day. He removed his armour, piece by piece and lit a small fire in the centre of the shack, after a while, sitting and staring at the fire, contemplating his next move, he fell into a deep sleep, exhausted and weary from his travels.


End file.
